Christmas Shoes
by the.m1ghty.pen
Summary: He was the grubbiest boy Grimmjow had seen. His clothes were patched and his skin was pale, hair lank and body shaking, but what he said struck Grimmjow to the core. "Sir, I wanna buy these shoes for my mamma, please." Made from Christmas Shoes by Newsong


**A/N:** It's late. I _know_ it's late. Sorry bout that, people. But I had to do it. I just totally had to. And I looked at it – no one else wrote this for GrimmIchi. So I had to and totally overload the amount of fluff in this thing. I swear I have never written anything this fluffy. Or maybe I have, but alas the knowledge is lost on me. But I hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** Oh, I so wish I owned these characters sometimes…

**Warning:** yaoi, an exorbitant amount of fluffiness that is very rare for me, and the word 'honestly' seems to pop up a lot…

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><p><span>Christmas Shoes<span>

by wolf's paradise

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><p>Fuck Nel. Honestly. It was ridiculous. She just <em>had<em> to demand he go to the goddamn shoe store to buy her a pair of shoes she really, really wanted. And go figure it was an _expensive_ pair of shoes. He had to admit she had taste, but even if he were a girl he wouldn't be caught dead in something that…that…_dangerous_.

Honestly. He was so done with the whole "Christmas" scene. It was just people putting things they didn't want to pay for on a list so that other people could pay for it.

He just… He wanted Christmas to be done. He'd never had very good Christmases anyway.

The frown on his face lowered further. Those bright yellow, six-inch heels stared at him, as if they were daring him not to buy them. It was like he was looking at a weird shape of Nel's eyes, and she was saying in her high voice, "Grimmy… Don't you _dare_ not get me those shoes!"

Bright blue eyes rolled. Oh, great. He was now delusional enough to imagine fucking shoes talking to him.

It was true, though. As much as he wanted to bypass those strappy death traps, Nel would be disappointed, and hell he _really_ couldn't disappoint his only cousin. She was annoying, pestered him constantly, and generally decided his business was hers as well, but… He sighed. She was his only living family.

As much as he tried to deny it, he could see her eyes light up every time she saw him. It was about the same for him, too. He always said he hated her, but honestly, he really didn't. They understood each other. When she was eleven she had gotten hit over the head with a lamp or a bat or something, causing her to temporarily lose her memory and forever have a jagged scar from her forehead to the bridge of her nose.

Her family hadn't looked for her. They didn't want her, so she was sent elsewhere. She had been alone in an orphanage until – and Grimmjow still didn't know how this had happened (it was strictly miraculous) – they had somehow been put into the same foster home.

She was only a few years older than he, but they had immediately bonded – which meant they fought constantly. It wasn't until she was eighteen that she found out her parentage, and since Grimmjow had known his, they had figured out that they were related.

Miraculous, really, and this time – Christmas time – was the only time that he would truly admit he did think it a miracle.

Nothing really went all right in his life, and despite his Christmases always being disastrous, with Nel they had become something different, and he couldn't deny the small twinkle of hope in his chest.

Perhaps this Christmas wouldn't be so bad.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his weary face before grabbing the box of shoes (in a bright yellow box, too) in a size 9 and heading towards the counter. He groaned outwardly. It was a long line, which meant it would probably take close to an hour before he got out of here, and that did not lighten his mood.

Grimmjow was tired. He had worked hard this year, trying to bring up the company right with Nel's help. He was only twenty-three and he felt like he was thirty. As he stood in line, he glanced up at the kids in front of him.

It must have been a husband shopping for his wife as he overheard the conversation between the man and his kids. One was a boy, bouncing up and down eagerly as he told his dad how happy his mom would be once she got his Christmas present.

Maybe there was a reason Grimmjow felt thirty. He knew he hadn't been very kid-like when he was in his teens. Foster homes and uncaring parents tended to make kids grow up fast – too fast perhaps. He felt like he had been living much longer than twenty-three years.

He glanced at his watch. It was 11:30 p.m. and he was dead tired. There were only two more people left in line before he could go, and he was silently growing impatient with the wait.

Eh, karma probably thought he deserved it. After all, he hadn't been the nicest kid or even the nicest business owner/manager, but a hard life makes for callous people, and he'd be damned if anyone ever took advantage of him again.

Finally his turn came, and Grimmjow was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wanted to go home and sleep. Wrap Nel's present of course, but sleep was mostly his main priority. As he stepped up to the counter, a little slip of a boy suddenly cut in front of him.

"Hey, kid, get in line!" He had waited for almost an hour, goddammit, and he wanted to go home! He didn't care if it was a kid.

The boy suddenly whipped around to face him, and all of Grimmjow's angry words stuck in his throat.

The boy clutched a slightly worse-for-wear tan box of shoes. Grimmjow could tell that underneath the jacket was a boy, tiny, thin, and probably malnourished. His face was pale, his brown eyes were wide and frightful, and his hair was unruly but hung limp around his face. He was shaking, too.

"I—I—I… I'm so sorry, sir," he whispered, voice sounding like he was practically petrified. "But… But please, I have to get home." He sniffled, hunched in on himself and set the shoes on the counter. He looked up at the cashier.

"Sir, I need…" he sniffled again. "I need to buy these shoes for… for my momma, please. It's Christmas Eve and I know they'll fit her… I'm sorry for the hold-up everyone, but if you could hurry, sir?"

Grimmjow couldn't think of anything to say. There was something else going on here – he knew it, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He glanced over the boy, something tightening in his chest as he took in more. The boy's clothes were worn and definitely old. They were patched with odd-colored fabric patterns, and the coat didn't look warm anymore.

And his hair. It wasn't just unruly and laying limply against his head. It was orange, the craziest orange he had ever seen as someone's hair color, but it was dull. It held no life, and for some reason it reminded Grimmjow of the fear in the boy's eyes.

A clatter hit the counter, and Grimmjow silently groaned at the coins being deposited onto the plastic surface.

"If you could hurry, Mr. Cashierman," the boy said nervously, beginning to wring his hands. "Daddy…he says there's not much time. You… You see, momma's been…" he choked up a bit, and at once the whole store seemed a bit quieter. "She's been sick for quite a while, sir, and I know these shoes will make her smile."

Suddenly, the boy looked up, his bright brown eyes glowing like a Christmas tree as a small, dazzling smile hit his face. "I want Mamma to look beautiful, you know? In case she meets Jesus tonight, sir."

Just as he said that, something seemed to clench and crash inside Grimmjow's chest. What… What kind of a boy could live with something like that? Would _have_ to live with something like that? And that he was _smiling_…

Grimmjow couldn't understand it. There had to be something wrong with that kid, but he wasn't sure what to make of it. Yes, he had Nel now and things were bad when he was a kid, but there was something different about that kid.

The cashier looked just as stunned, then jerked himself to and began to count the dozens of coins on the counter. The boy was shifting his weight from foot to foot, anxiously looking at the cashier, to the clock, back at the cashier, and then back to the clock again. He was still wringing his hands when a while later the cashier looked up.

He hesitated. "Son… You don't have enough money."

It was like the kid had been slapped. His whole body jolted and he recoiled, all of his being beginning to tremble. He seemed lost, his head lowering as Grimmjow guessed the kid was trying to figure out something to do.

The boy suddenly whirled around, facing Grimmjow and reaching forward to clutch at the blue haired man's jacket. He gulped, his eyes frantic and his cheeks looking even more sunken than before.

"Please… Please… Mamma made Christmas good for us – all of us – even though most years she did without it… Sir, what am I gonna do? I've got to get these for her. I've got to!"

He looked heartbroken, and Grimmjow swallowed, this kid reminding him of the one Christmas he tried to contact his parents, but they had opened the door, waiting to see someone, anyone, but him. They sent him away, leaving him feeling broken, lonely, and lost. He'd hated that. He'd promised never again…

And looking at this boy, he recognized something he hadn't seen in a very long time. Slowly, Grimmjow nodded. "I'll pay for it," he said quietly.

"You… You will?" the boy seemed shell-shocked, like he completely hadn't expected Grimmjow to say yes.

"Yeah."

Again, the kid looked like he had gotten the greatest gift in the world. His entire being lit up, and Grimmjow couldn't help but grinning slightly as well. That boy's grin was contagious, and something suddenly felt lighter, fuller, and happier inside of him as he added Nel's shoes to the pile and pulled out a credit card.

Just as he was about to sign, the kid tugged on his sleeve. When he glanced down, Grimmjow knew the kid's bright face would be forever etched into his memory.

"Sir…_thank you_. Mamma's gonna look so great." With that, he grabbed the box and ran off towards the exit.

"O-Oi!" Grimmjow called, growling a bit as he quickly signed, grabbed his own box of shoes and raced after the kid. He found him by his bright orange hair slipping and sliding across the frozen sidewalk as he tried to turn and race home.

"Hey, kid!" he said again.

The boy, obviously surprised someone was talking to him, tried to whirl around but only succeeded in losing his balance and falling onto the ice.

Grimmjow sighed, rubbing a hand over his face but walking towards the kid anyway to help him up. The kid's entire face was red, but he accepted Grimmjow's offered hand, bending down to pick up the shoes.

In the process of his fall, the lid had come off of the shoes, and Grimmjow finally saw exactly what they were. They were silver blue, with darker blue lace and trimmings all around them. They even sported small faux pearls, but really, the shoes were simple yet beautiful at the same time.

"Nice shoes."

The boy's face flushed. "Thanks. Mom's always liked blue."

"Has she?"

"Yeah. I have too."

"Blue's a good color."

"Mhmm." The kid looked further up than Grimmjow's eyes. "Just like it is for your hair." Grimmjow felt his irritation spike, but the kid just kept on smiling and talking. "Blue is a good color. Besides, it looks really good on you."

Yet again the kid seemed to take Grimmjow's words right out of his mouth. He didn't know what to say for a few seconds. "Uh…thanks."

"Sure."

They stood for a few moments in awkward silence until the boy looked up. "So I'm sorry for cutting in front of you, sir. I… I won't do it again. I figure that's what you wanted to talk to be about, but…"

The blue haired man had really never liked kids, but for some reason, he was tolerating and even beginning to _like_ this one. "Nah, kid. That's not what I'm here for. I wanted to walk you home. Not safe for a kid like you to be walking out alone."

"R-Really? You're not mad?"

"Oddly enough? No, I'm not."

"Thanks."

"Sure thing, kid."

"I…I'm not a kid," he protested.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. "Really? How old are you then?"

Again, the boy blushed. "I'm eleven."

"Alright. What's your name then, kid?" Grimmjow asked as they started walking, the boy leading the way.

"Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Ichigo?"

The boy crossed his arms. "So? What about it?" The kid was scowling lightly, but if anything, Grimmjow strangely found it endearing on the young face.

And yet, as he looked at those brown eyes lit by the streetlamps, there was also something very old and very pained in their depths, and it made Grimmjow's chest clench again.

"Where do you live, Ichigo?"

Something seemed to dull in the boy's eyes. He pointed. "Over there. In Hueco Mundo. The apartments in Las Noches."

Shit. "How'd you end up there?"

An embarrassed flush lit Ichigo's face. "Mom's…treatment…hasn't been…cheap." He stumbled over the words, eyes looking at the icy sidewalk. "We used to live around here, but…"

"Come on, kid."

"Wh-What?" His head snapped up so fast Grimmjow was afraid he'd get whiplash.

"Come on. I'll drive you there."

"You know where that is?"

The corners of Grimmjow's mouth turned down. "Yeah. Used to live there."

"You did?" the boy exclaimed as he raced after the blue haired man as Grimmjow walked to his car. When Grimmjow didn't answer, Ichigo said, "Why's that?"

"Rather not say."

"Please?"

They'd stopped right next to it, staring over the hood of Grimmjow's well-kept ice blue car, and Grimmjow knew that looking into the kid's eyes was a bad idea. They were so wide and innocent looking, but Grimmjow knew, even if he hadn't seen the kid's eyes before, that he knew far more heartache than he should. And goddammit those puppy brown eyes made him relent.

He sighed, opening the car and ushering the kid inside. "My parents got rid of me. Didn't want me. I still remember them putting me in the orphanage. Bits and pieces – I was only three, but I still remember. I've been in foster homes ever since," he grumbled roughly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ichigo lower his head and heard the kid gulp. "That's… That's terrible," he whispered.

Grimmjow just shrugged. They were silent for a few minutes as Grimmjow pulled onto the main road. He knew exactly how to get to the Las Noches apartments. He'd lived there practically all his life.

"What's your name?" Ichigo asked quietly.

He rubbed a hand over his face. "Grimmjow."

"Odd name."

The blue haired man looked over to growl at the boy, but he couldn't. There was a small, tired smile on Ichigo's face, and his eyes looked tired as well. He looked even more tired than Grimmjow felt, which was saying something.

"I suppose."

"Did your parents give it to you?"

His anger spiked again, but he really couldn't fault the kid. He was merely curious, and most kids didn't understand when tact was and wasn't needed. "Only thing of theirs that I kept."

"Oh." The boy looked out of the window, shivering slightly, but Grimmjow had turned the heat up as well as the heated seats, and it looked like the boy was ready for a good sleep. He turned to look at Grimmjow carefully. "I'm sorry."

Grimmjow could tell that Ichigo meant it. And suddenly, he understood. Ichigo was sad, petrified, and heartbroken that his mother might die soon, but that in no way meant that he was unloved. Wherever he lived, his parents loved him with all of their hearts, and it was because of love that Ichigo was willing to part with his mother for these moments to get her a present for Christmas. And that money was probably all of his savings, too.

He loved her that much.

Damn. Grimmjow hadn't expected to have a sad Christmas, but go figure he'd meet a kid like this one. He'd had a hard life, yes, but with Nel, Grimmjow was learning how to be careful, how to trust, and how to love family and friends unconditionally. It was hard, especially with Nel, but it was so potent in this kid's life that Grimmjow felt his heart squeeze.

He felt bad that this kid had to live this way, not when he was…

What? Not when he was what? What was Ichigo then? Grimmjow didn't even know the kid, but he could tell that he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of it. A kid like this, one that could live with the thought that someone they really _loved_ might die… He deserved better than that.

If Nel were to die, what would Grimmjow do? He would throw a tantrum – that's what he'd do. He'd shout and curse and throw things, but it wouldn't help. And this kid, he accepted it. No tantrums, no shouts and curses. Just sad acceptance and love.

And Grimmjow realized that he really did love Nel. As crazy as she could be, he loved her. She was his only family, someone that believed in him, and he would never forget that. And she would deserve a reaction like Ichigo's from Grimmjow if something like that ever happened.

Grimmjow felt a small weight on his shoulder and jolted out of his thoughts. He glanced over, but felt a smile creep onto his face. Ichigo had fallen asleep, his little legs tucked under him, his arms close to his body and his head resting on Grimmjow's arms. But probably the thing that made Grimmjow groan were the small, thin hands fisted into Grimmjow's thick, warm jacket.

Oh, what would Nel say? He knew _exactly_ what she would say. She'd smile all sweetly, and say with utmost seriousness yet endearment: "Grimmy, you are all hard and tough on the outside, but on the inside…you're just gooey."

He couldn't deny it. He couldn't fucking deny it. Grimmjow found this kid absolutely adorable. He felt for this kid, related to him on a level that was similar, but he still had no idea exactly what the kid was going through. He just knew that Ichigo needed his help, and goddammit he was going to help that little boy.

Finally, they reached the apartments, and Grimmjow stopped the car, sighing and rubbing a hand over his face as the memories flitted into his brain. He had never liked this place. _Che,_ he snorted. _Understatement of the year_.

"Ichigo. Hey, Ichigo," Grimmjow murmured as he gently shook the kid's shoulder. He felt so fragile Grimmjow was almost afraid he'd break.

Slowly, the kid woke, body moving leisurely as he sucked in a breath and blinked, looking rested already. Damn, this kid really needed a good warm bed to sleep in and lots of food.

The boy looked at Grimmjow wearily, and Grimmjow motioned to the apartments. "I don't know which one."

"Oh," Ichigo said, quickly wiping the sleep from his eyes and sniffing. "It's that one, number 10."

Grimmjow nodded, slowly driving his car to the left until he reached number 10. He turned the engine off, wondering what exactly he should do, and suddenly realized that Ichigo hadn't let go of his jacket.

"Please. Come in with me?"

He sounded scared, and Grimmjow's heart broke. Man, it really had to be just this kid, because he swore that no other kid had gotten to him like this one was. Grimmjow looked at him, and Ichigo's brown eyes were wide and moist as he clutched that box of shoes.

Ugh. Damn.

"Yeah."

Ichigo didn't smile this time. Grimmjow could tell Ichigo was happy he'd said yes, but he didn't smile. It suddenly clicked. Ichigo's mom… She might've gone in the time that he'd left.

"Come on, Ichi."

"Ichi?" the boy's voice shook, but he sounded surprised and slightly confused.

"What? I can't give you a nickname?" Grimmjow smirked.

The kid flushed brightly. "N-No, that's not it… I just… I'm not used to…" Ichigo cleared his throat. "I like it."

"Good."

As they neared the front of the rundown house, Ichigo's grip on Grimmjow's jacket tightened, and the kid swallowed thickly. He reached out slowly to grasp the knob and turn it. The door opened easily, but creaked once it passed a certain point.

"Tadaima," Ichigo called shakily as they entered. The inside was dim and a bit dusty, and there were only a few lights on. But it looked as if they'd kept it up as best as they could considering the conditions.

"Ichi-nii!"

Grimmjow heard two voices call Ichigo's name before two girls burst into the hallway, excited, sad, and frightened looks on their faces. They screeched to a halt upon seeing Grimmjow's large frame taking up a lot of space in the hallway, and probably upon Grimmjow's stare.

He didn't mean to stare, it was just that the girls were so different from Ichigo and even each other. Both were slight, but one had a very open face with light eyes and light brown hair. The other was dark haired and dark eyed, and her countenance was much more closed off.

"Ichi-nii, who's this?" the dark one asked.

"This is Grimmjow," Ichigo said, smiling slightly. "Grimm, these are my sisters Yuzu and Karin." Ichigo pointed to them as he said each name.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, looking down at Ichigo. "Grimm?"

That brilliant smile seemed to light up Ichigo's face again, and Grimmjow found that he really really liked that kid's smile. It was so hard not to smile back when faced with something that happy.

"What? I can't give you a nickname?"

At that, Grimmjow laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest and shaking his shoulders. He hadn't laughed like this in a while.

"Who're you?"

This time, it was a deep voice, and Grimmjow's laughter halted immediately. The man was as tall or a little shorter than Grimmjow, but his eyes were hard and pained as he rested a hand on each of his daughters' shoulders.

He meant to answer, but Ichigo answered for him. "Dad, this is Grimm. He was standing in line at the shoe store when I went to get these for Mom, and he bought them for me! He drove me home, too…"

Ichigo's dad still looked very upset at this prospect, but Ichigo wasn't paying attention. Still gripping tightly at the shoebox, he tugged at Grimmjow's jacket. "Come on. I want you to meet Mom."

Grimmjow felt like he was intruding. Ichigo's dad sure made him feel that way, but he couldn't deny that kid. "Yeah. I'd like that, Ichi."

Again, Ichigo smiled brilliantly. He led Grimmjow past the other three and through another hallway until they reached a room. He could see the difference in countenance as Ichigo reached for the knob with a shaky hand, breathing deeply. Slowly, he opened the door.

It was pretty dark in the room. The only light was a small lamp, but there wasn't much else that Grimmjow could see as his eyes flitted quickly around the room. But when his eyes landed on the far side of the room, his whole entire being dropped.

The woman used to be prettier – and still was according to Grimmjow. She had auburn hair the same color if not a little deeper than Ichigo's. Her body was small and skeletal, the sickness plaguing her making her little more than bone. But her eyes. Her eyes shone like the clearest of skies and the promise of happiness, and he could suddenly see where Ichigo got his bright eyes and happy smiles.

The sickness had taken away some of her beauty, but even Grimmjow thought that she looked beautiful when she caught sight of her son and her eyes lit up.

"Ichi…go," the woman whispered difficultly, having to lick her lips and swallow thickly. It was then that Grimmjow noticed the nose tube and all the machines next to her casting a small whir throughout the room.

"Mom," Ichigo whispered, but it sounded more like a broken question.

"Ba…by." She carefully held her arms open, and Ichigo dashed over to her. He was sniffling, shaking with effort not to hug her too hard. She looked over to Grimmjow, and Ichigo wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"This is Grimmjow, Mamma. He helped me buy these for you. He helped me, and drove me home, and I wanted him to meet you."

She took a hand, slowly and carefully patting it against her chest, her eyes twinkling with sincerity as she mouthed a slow "Thank you."

Grimmjow nodded. He didn't even have to be here this long. God, Ichigo had a family that loved him dearly, and it was suddenly what Grimmjow craved. This family… Despite Grimmjow being slightly intimidated by Ichigo's father (the man probably suspected he was a pedophile or something – which he _wasn't_) he could tell this family loved each other.

Suddenly, Grimmjow knew what he had to do. He couldn't let this family be torn apart. He'd been torn apart by uncaring monsters and people that didn't care for him any more than their own children, and he could help. This family would not be separated.

"Ichi," he said quietly, almost as if he talked any louder it would ruin the mood of the room.

The kid looked at him, eyes sad and pained, and it caused a new clench in Grimmjow's chest. He had to hurry if he wanted to help. He motioned for the kid to come to him, and slowly, Ichigo did.

Grimmjow slipped out of his warm jacket and placed it over Ichigo's shoulders, watching the boy's eyes go wide. "Keep it. Take care of your mom, okay?" What else he could say, Grimmjow had no idea, but as he stood, he took one last look at Ichigo's mother, not bothering to decipher the look in her eyes. He nodded, "It was nice to meet you and your family."

With that, he walked out, not looking at anyone else in the family, and hurried home.

00000

There was a man in the house. A very strange man. He had pink hair, was very thin, and had this air about him that Ichigo didn't like. Plus, he'd said to stay out of the room while he helped, and Ichigo didn't like that. He didn't want to wait. He wanted to be there.

Finally, he stepped out of the room. The strange man clipped his travel bag shut. "I would advise you to take her to a hospital. They have the best treatment there. It will take a while, but she can be saved."

His father was spluttering. "But how is that… It can't be possible… We don't—we don't have the funds…"

"It's all been taken care of. I was sent to assess the situation. I'm the best doctor in the country, and if I say she can be saved, she can."

"But how…"

"Grimm."

Ichigo hadn't even realized he'd whispered until his father and the strange pink haired man looked at him. He swallowed. "Grimmjow called you… Didn't he?"

"Yes," the man said simply. He proceeded to explain some things to Ichigo's father, but Ichigo's brain was short-circuiting.

_Grimmjow had just saved his family_.

00000

Fifteen minutes to midnight. Another year gone. Another Christmas spent remembering.

It'd been eleven years since Grimmjow had first met the orange haired boy named Ichigo, and honestly, he sounded like a stalker, but he hadn't been able to get him out of his head. He'd followed Ichigo, sent more money to help his mother and money for school for him and his sisters and for better clothes. Grimmjow was determined to give that kid a better life than he'd ever had, and while these past eleven years had been so much better, he owed it all to that kid.

What Ichigo had done per say, Grimmjow wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was a new perspective on life. Maybe it was the realization of Christmas, of family, of things that Grimmjow had never had until he was too old to really know how to appreciate it.

Whatever it was, Grimmjow still felt like he was some sort of stalker. He'd seen him a few other times. As a businessman, and a fairly well known one at that, he'd done a few presentations and lectures at Ichigo's school. He'd felt like such an idiot and a stalker that he'd left his jacket behind to make sure Ichigo didn't catch him, but when he went back to get it, it was gone.

God, he was thirty-four years old, and he couldn't get this kid out of his mind. People just wouldn't understand his reason for this, and even he couldn't understand it all the way. It was just something he _had_ to do.

"I found you."

The soft voice broke through the happy chatter and excitable music playing in the background, and Grimmjow whipped his head around, thoroughly surprised.

There stood the object of his muse, a small smirk on his face and hands stuffed into his jacket. A jacket, Grimmjow realized, that was the one that had gone missing a few years ago. Ichigo's orange hair was long, less spiky, and it reached the tops of his shoulder blades in the back. It hung low over his face, but there was no denying the spark in those brown eyes.

But the kid looked good. Really good.

"Ichi," he said quietly.

"Grimm."

"What're you doing here?" He couldn't help his curiosity.

Ichigo shrugged. "Same thing as you, I guess. Came to watch the fireworks and get a drink."

Grimmjow snorted. "You're a kid. You can't drink."

The smirk fell off of Ichigo's face immediately and it morphed into some sort of scowl. "I'm twenty-two. I too can drink."

"Twenty-two, eh?" Grimmjow murmured, taking a large gulp of whatever drink he had ordered. Honestly, he couldn't remember.

"Yes," Ichigo said firmly, eyes glinting determinedly. "I'm not a kid anymore."

It was like he was determined to make Grimmjow see him in a different light, but Grimmjow knew he wasn't a kid anymore. It was just…hard to remember sometimes.

"So?"

Ichigo moved closer, hands staying in his pockets as he thoroughly invaded Grimmjow's space bubble. Up close, Ichigo looked angry. "Do you know how unfair it is?" he growled suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you even know how often I think of you, Grimm? Why haven't you ever talked to me? Why did you disappear after those lectures? Do you know how _long_ I have wanted to thank you for saving my mother? To tell you that she's alive, and that while she isn't completely better, and won't ever be, she is still _alive_. I have wanted to tell you that for so long, but you've always avoided me. Yet you send my parents money to take care of me and my sisters. I don't get it."

When he finished, he was panting slightly. Grimmjow really hadn't been expecting that, but he supposed they were all fair questions. The rest caught up in his brain, and he quickly snapped to.

"Your mom? She's okay?"

Ichigo relaxed a bit. "Yes. She's better."

"Good… That's good." Grimmjow rubbed the back of his neck, deciding to take a chance and explain. "I always thought that if I talked to you, I'd be considered some sort of pedophile or whatnot, or that you'd tell me your mom had died. I didn't want to know. So I didn't talk."

"Why did you?"

"Why did I what?" Grimmjow sighed. He really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

"Send money."

He scratched at his chest. "You made an impression on me."

"No," Ichigo said firmly, fists clenching. "I need more than that."

"Fine," Grimmjow growled, making a noise of irritation but answering anyway. "My parents never wanted me. Sent me to an orphanage. I tried to find them one Christmas, and they gave me a scar." He pulled his shirt down a bit, and heard Ichigo inhale as he saw the top of the still-angry red scar. "It goes down to my right hip. They got mad at me, and I have never had a good temper, so we fought. I was kicked out. I was shunned, abandoned, and alone until I miraculously met my cousin."

Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, his tirade getting less sharp and quick and softer and slower. "I didn't want your family to be separated. Not after I saw…your mom."

He didn't want to explain about all his internal thoughts. It was enough telling the kid this because he deserved it, but he wasn't ready to divulge everything yet.

Suddenly, warm lips met his, and he jerked away. "What the—Kid, do you know what the hell you're doing?"

Ichigo wasn't cowed by Grimmjow's glare. His eyes were fierce with brown fire. "I dream about you all the time. About you stepping in and saving me from problems, and of other things…" At that, his face went bright red, but he continued. "You have saved my entire family, and me especially. I can't… I can't even begin to describe how much you mean to me, and I don't even know that much about you." At the end, Ichigo gave a sardonic laugh, his confidence falling.

The blue haired man gulped. "Ichi… I…"

God, how did he say this? He liked Ichigo, too, had thought about the kid plenty, had imagined what it might be like for someone like that kid to love him the way he loved his family, but he'd always forced it from his mind. He didn't want to be wrong. For people to think of him as disgusting. He'd had enough of that before to last him a lifetime.

"I'm not a kid anymore," Ichigo repeated. "I'm not. I'm legal. I'm twenty-two, and I want to love the person that saved my life."

"But I don't… I don't want to seem…" He couldn't get it out. And Ichigo seemed to understand.

"You aren't. You aren't. Not if I want the same thing."

"People think differently, Ichigo."

"I don't care. Please. You've somehow given me everything I've ever wanted except this. I want… God, I almost don't even know _what_ I want, but I want this. _Something_. Please."

He may have been thirty-four and definitely not open about his sexuality, but Grimmjow did realize that people could take this the wrong way. But didn't men marry women that were eleven years or more younger than they? He liked this kid, he did, and maybe, just maybe, something else good in his life would work out.

"Okay."

That smile broke out on Ichigo's face, its brilliance even more blinding and attractive than when he was a kid. The orange haired male leaned in carefully, gently pressing his lips to Grimmjow's in the lightest of touches, and Grimmjow's breath puffed out of his nose as his hands found Ichigo's neck to pull him in tighter.

And somewhere in the background, he heard the New Year's fireworks explode.

00000

**A/N:** Um, I think that's one of the tamest GrimmIchi things I've ever done. And like I said: MAJOR amounts of fluff. I mean, really. I usually do not write anything that fluffy. I suppose we all need it every once in a while. But I supposed it was brought on by listening to _Christmas Shoes_ (of course) and _A Thousand Years_ by Christina Perri. Hope you guys enjoyed this. I tried to make it seem like Grimmjow wasn't a pedophile, because he wasn't, and I hope I did it well enough. I mean, it's not like Ichigo was a little boy he wanted to keep in his closet, I just wanted Ichigo to make an impression on him, and sometimes, sooner or later, that view changes into something more. Hope I did all right and sorry if 12 of the 17 pages seem rushed. Wrote it in a night lol. Let me know, folks!

- wp

**PS.** If you liked this, I have a similar story _Koukai Nashi_. Please check it out! I personally think it's better than this lol.


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